water to water.

they told me once that You are a vast and endless ocean,

stretching into that firmament meeting-space,

horizon that only keeps spilling out of itself–out of Yourself–

touched and untouched by this small rag-tag raft i paddle.

[i left their waters long ago, but i kept the float and oar.

i hope they don’t mind too much.]

i used to think i had arrived somewhere,

until i realized there is no shore of arriving.

there is always just this–just You, this sea.

one day, there will be no raft.

for now, it is littered with trinkets.

therefore let us keep the Feast

is etched fresh into the wood, alleluia.

something about a sloppy wet kiss

spray-painted with gusto, in blue.

there’s a tambourine lying around here

somewhere, if you insist, and these old

dance ribbons i found are tattered now,

streaming out behind me into the water,

like so many snakes dancing in tune.

a wisewoman once told my friend,

go out and have a look around.

and that is what he did. i want to know

if she gave him a walking-stick or a

pair of shoes or an oar like mine.

[i used to think i had arrived somewhere,

go and have a look around,

until i realized there is no shore of arriving.]

tonight, though, You are the sky:

dark and deep and shadow.

still unfolding, ever.

time present and time past, i wonder if

the waters will always be divided from the waters,

i wonder if i can find the still point even now,

for there the dance is.

it is enough to capsize.

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8 thoughts on “water to water.

  1. I could read this over and over and continue to just sit in the beauty and depth of it. Oh Antonia…thank you. My mouth stumbles over the words but my heart drinks them like fresh water from above. thank you for sharing your meditations.

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